


Warcraft Collection

by TheCookieOfDoom



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:04:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieOfDoom/pseuds/TheCookieOfDoom
Summary: These are most of the oneshots I wrote while still in the fandom. I didn't want to delete them entirely, so i thought I would gather them up into their own anthology.





	1. Into the Ocean

There was something pure about being out in the ocean. Away from the cars and the buildings and the people. The bustling city life. Just him and the waves and the fish. The occasional shark, even, not that those concerned him. They kept to themselves, used to surfers and divers by now, and so long as people respected them, they kept away.

This particular cove wasn’t used often; it was unknown, really. Not even the dawn patrol, those who went surfing first thing in the morning like Lothar, were out there. It was peaceful, being able to sit alone on his board in the water and watch the sun rise over the endless stretch of the horizon. Most people preferred to surf with others-Lothar often surfed with his two best friends, Medihv and Llane--but sometimes he just wanted to come to his secret spot and be alone for a while. To decompress from the stress of everyday city life.

He closed his eyes to the sound of birds waking, singing their morning song, and waves crashing closer to shore. He was far enough out that the swells didn’t reach him. The water was calm, where he was, the waves having not yet grown past gentle ripples on the surface. The gentle lulling of the current and soft swells helped him find his center, his breath syncing with the ocean easily. Before long, he opened his eyes and turned to paddle back, closer to shore. The sun had broken over the horizon fully, illuminating the secluded cove. Able to clearly see, now, he could accurately judge the waves. Some of them could get pretty gnarly here, breaking over the coral, and he’d rather not get himself tumbled and injured on the ocean floor like a grom. Especially not while he was alone. Llane and Medihv would never let him here the end of it if he did.

The waves were great this morning, breaking cleanly. They got bigger as time wore on, until the barrels started rolling in. He hung back for a few minutes, counting the waves until he suddenly went to drop in, catching the biggest one so far. It was about as perfect as you could get, the wave so smooth it was glassy. It was like being in another world, being on the inside of a tube like that, chasing the opening to keep it from closing over him. He reached into the wall of water, catching it with his hand, when his fingers brushed against something soft. Looking over, he saw that his hand had brushed the furry tail of a sea otter. A very large one, he noted, but the creature darted away before he could get a good look at it. He could still feel the thick fur on his hand when he exited the tube and it broke behind him.

That was a good wave to end on, and with one last glance at the open ocean--hoping to catch sight of the otter again--he turned to paddle back to shore.  He propped his surf board up and stuffed it into the sand, before reaching behind himself to grab the tether that connected to his zipper, pulling it down so that he could get the top part of his wet suit off. Once he was bare from the waist up, he uncuffed the velcro around his ankle that kept him connected to the board, then picked it back up and headed off towards hic car, ready to get back home, shower up, then start the day.

***

Khadgar watched Lothar, his heart fluttering in his chest with excitement. The man was quite a sight to behold, soaring over the waves as if he were an extension of the ocean itself. It was mesmerizing, almost. Khadgar knew he was especially talented; the few other humans he’d seen didn’t have the same finesse as Lothar, the same grace. They couldn’t carve the same waves that he took with ease that came from a lifetime of practice. He was gorgeous, too, body rippling with muscles and covered in a wetsuit that molded to him like a second skin. He was the most delectable human Khadgar had ever seen.

Today, Khadgar had been careless. Usually he settled for watching Lothar from a distance, hiding behind rocks and coral to watch without being seen himself. But this time he had wanted to get closer. His human looked so peaceful, sitting amongst the gentle ripples of the ocean. Like he had cast off all his burdens and thoughts, becoming one with the water. There was something beautiful about it. Entrancing. Khadgar couldn’t bring himself to watch for long, feeling like he was intruding on a private moment. As much as he would love to watch Lothar’s expression go lax with inner peace, he instead dove below the waves. Lothar would swim back to surf when the sun rose, as he always did. Until then, Khadgar hunted through the coral for some crabs to eat.

It wasn’t long before Lothar was swimming overhead, and Khadgar followed with a grin, swimming underneath the man like a shadow. Lothar never saw him, never thought to look, so Khadgar was free to watch him as much as he liked. But he wanted to get even closer. So he waited, until Lothar took on a barrel. Seeing his chance, Khadgar took it, swimming into the barrier of water beside Lothar. He was so close, only a mere few feet away, and the water was so clear that he could make out Lothar almost perfectly.

He hadn’t expected Lothar to reach out and touch him. He knew it wasn’t intentional, of course, Lothar always did that. Too keep his balance possibly. Khadgar just happened to be exactly where Lothar put his hand, and it brushed over his tail. Khadgar could have sworn his heart stopped the second he felt Lothar’s touch. Immediately, he turned to swim away, rising to the surface briefly for a gasp of air, before continuing on to get as far away from Lothar as possible. He stayed hidden amongst a formation of rocks, keeping to a distance this time as he watched Lothar leaving a while later. When Lothar turned one last time to look out at the water, a part of Khadgar had hoped Lothar was looking for him. He knew Lothar was probably just admiring the sight. He always did that before he left, as if this would be the last time he saw it. But Khadgar could hope his human was looking for him.


	2. Home

Friendship isn't about who you've known the longest. It's about who came and never left your side. -Unknown

Khadgar watched as his world came crumbling down him. When he'd been young-younger, he reminded himself, he was hardly old at the age of 18-he had never really known what it was like to truly live. He read his books, learned his spells, living only only in the city of Dalaran. Sometimes he thought he could remember snippets of Lordaeron, but it was likely only his imagination. He had never known what it was like to really live, a part of the outside world, but he had also never known true loss, or devastation like this. He had never seen the death of a fellow soldier, or felt the pain when a friend was lost.

He'd had another student steal a spell he'd been creating, but he'd never felt true betrayal, nothing like when Garona betrayed them. He had to believe there was a reason, he had to. He couldn't believe that she had killed Llane to rejoin the Horde as a hero. She had a life here, with them. He thought she wanted it; they all did.

Lothar took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly as he laced their fingers, and Khadgar held on for dear life. As if that was the only thing keeping him together. And right now, it was.

"Come on," Lothar said softly, giving his hand a tug. "You've been here long enough."

Long enough for everyone, all of the other mourners, to gradually drift away until it was just him, Lothar, and the moon. He couldn't help but be glued to the spot, gaze fixed on the memorial service that had been held for all that were lost these past few weeks. A millions candles lit up the city, illuminating flowers and mementos of all kind. This, this made everything so real. Losing so much in just one day, it had felt surreal. Like a dream turned into a horrible nightmare that he would soon wake up from.

"Come on, Khadgar," he tried again. "You can't stay here forever. Dwelling on what can't be changed isn't good for you."

"What, so I'm just supposed to forget all that's happened and move on like everything's okay? Forgive me, but /I can't do that right now./"

"I'm not asking you too." He moved to stand in front of Khadhar, wrapping his arms around his waist to pull him into a hug. "You need to rest, and you need time to work through everything."

Khadgar didn't hug back, looking over Lothar's shoulder. "I don't have time for that. There's still so much to do, we need to stop the orcs, and find Gul'dan before he creates another portal, and-"

"And none of that will happen today, or tomorrow, or even the day after. You don't need to hold everything together, Khadgar; it's not your responsibility."

"I need to do something. Anything."

"You need rest."

Khadgar finally relented, wrapping his arms around Lothar and closing his eyes, accepting the hug.

"I want to go home," he said softly, so much sorrow hidden in just those few words. "But I don't have one." Not really. Dalaran wasn't his home, it never was. But it was the only place he had ever known. Lordaeron wasn't his home, as much as he wished it could be.

"This is your home," Lothar whispered back. Whether he meant Stormwind, or the room he'd been using since he came here, or Lothar's arms, he didn't know. He supposed it didn't matter, not really.

"Take me home, then."

Lothar pressed a kiss to his temple, before releasing Khadgar to take his hand again. He led the Mage back to the Keep, and to his room, guiding him over to the bed. Khadgar let himself be pushed down, and when Lothar cupped his cheek, he leaned into the touch and accepted the kiss.

Lothar shed his leather armor and rid Khadgar of his cloak, before pressing him down into the bed gently, not breaking the kiss. Khadgar wrapped his arms around Lothar, spreading his legs willingly for Lothar to position himself between.

He closed his eyes as Lothar pulled away just enough to press feather light kisses down his neck, carding his fingers through the man's hair. He let Lothar lavish affectation on him, soaking it up.

"I love you," he murmured, wrapping his legs loosely around Lothar's waist.

"I love you too, bookworm," he said with a smile, looking up at Khadgar.

 

Khadgar woke up when he felt the warm rays of the sun on his face, pulling him slowly from his sleep. For the first time in weeks, he felt completely at peace. Even more so when he felt Lothar's arm tighten around his waist, and nuzzle at the back of his neck.

"Good morning," he mumbled tiredly, voice hoarse and slightly muffled.

"Good morning," Khadgar said with a smile when Lothar pulled him closer, closing his eyes again. He felt pleasantly sore from the nights activities, and glad that it wasn't all a dream. That Lothar was still there come morning.

"I love you," he said tentatively. And when Lothar said it back, he knew that eventually, everything was going to be alright.


	3. Forgive Me Father

Khadgar entered the confessional, biting his lips as he looked down and crossed himself. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two weeks since my last confession.”

“Peace be with you, child,” said Father Lothar.

Khadgar was silent, looking at the rosary wrapped around his wrist as he fiddled with the cross.

“It’s easiest if you begin with the hardest,” Lothar prompted, thinking that it couldn’t be anything too extreme. Perhaps self-gratification, as is common with boys his age. Nothing that wasn’t easily forgiven.

“Alright… Well. I entertained impure thoughts…”

“Please continue,” Lothar said kindly, having expected such.

“Impure thoughts about a man, Father. A man of the church, which must be an even greater sin.”

“All sins are equal in the eyes of the Lord, and all sins will be equally forgiven.”

“I have taken the Lord’s name in vain. Many times, during impure situations with other men. I have lied many times as well, to my father when he asked where i was all night. I have been less than attentive during mass, thinking impure thoughts about this man. I have been very disrespectful. I have… illicitly gotten drunk. With older men, in exchange for… favors. Favors that I willingly and eagerly performed.”

Lothar couldn’t help but imagine what favors Khadgar could possibly be talking about, kneeling in the middle of a group of men, pretty mouth open as they took their pleasure on him. ‘Lord in heaven, save me from temptation,’ he silently prayed as he felt desire course through his veins, listening intently to Khadgar continue to list his sins. It was as if there was nothing this young man hadn’t committed in the last two weeks.

“I willfully looked at pornography. While imagining this man and I were acting out the scenes, instead. Many times. While pleasuring myself.” Starting to get into his stride, he continued, feeling less hesitant about opening up.

“I participated in impure conversations online, with complete strangers, letting men tell me what they wanted to do to me and telling them what I wanted them to do. I met up with one of these men the other night and we had intercourse, while I was imagining he was someone else the entire time. He- he even let me call him the other man’s name.” He swallowed thickly, rubbing the rosary beads between his thumb and index finger.

“I let him tie me to the bed and sodomize me with… things. Toys. Before he took me, several times throughout the night.” Lothar’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton, picturing how Khadgar would look the way he described.

“I have let multiple men have be at one time. Older men. Probably your age, Father…”

“And why is that? Why not a young lady your own age?” Lothar asked, voice thick as he crossed his legs, willing away his desire.

“They remind me of you, Father,” Khadgar said after some silent thought, his voice barely above a whisper. He swore he could hear Father Lothar swallow on the other side of the confessional. “Tall, strong men. They’re always so kind and gentle with me, like i imagine you would be. Taking their time, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of my body.” He smiled to himself, the expression hidden as he looked down, biting his plush bottom lip.

“Then, when i feel like I’ve seen the golden gates and I’m floating on Heaven’s clouds, they take me hard, leaving me feeling like I won’t be able to walk by the time they’re done with me. And I think I like it much more like that. When they pull my hair and call me filthy, derogatory things, and leave bruises on my body as a reminder of what we did. And I am still wet with oil and the seed of the last man that took me just earlier today.”

Lothar could only hope, pray, that the way his breath hitched went unnoticed by Khadgar. Of course, it didn’t. The boy was waiting for any reaction he could get from Lothar.

“Are you alright, Father?” he asked, voice nothing but concern, his tongue that had been dripping nothing but sin now dripping with sweet honey.

“Yes, I’m fine. Is there anything else you need to confess?”

“Yes.”

God help him.

“I think often about you doing thing’s to me, Father. Coming over to me while I pray and putting your cock in my mouth, or bending me over the altar and taking me. Pulling on the rosary around my neck until I can just barely breathe while you have your way with me. Or putting me over your desk and making me count as you cane my bare ass as punishment for my sins. Or perhaps punishing me with your hand, instead.”

‘Almighty and most Merciful God, graciously hearken unto my prayers; and free my heart from the temptations of the flesh so that I may worthily become a fit habitation for Thy Holy Spirit.’

“I like to imagine being on my knees in front of you on the other side of this box, taking you into my mouth while you take confessions. I wouldn’t be trying to make you climax, I wouldn’t want us to get caught. I just want to feel you in my mouth, hard and throbbing for me while you try to keep your composure.”

‘Holy Father, lead me not into temptation.’

“What I think about the most, though, is being on my elbows and knees praying while you take me, making sure I recite all of my act of contrition correctly before allowing me to release.” He looked up finally, seeing the outline of lothar through the elegantly patterned lattice between them. “That is all, Father,” he finished, releasing his grip on the rosary he had been fiddling with throughout the confession.

Father Lothar wet his lips and cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his place. “You are absolved of your sins, my child. Your penance is three Hail Mary’s and the Act of Contrition.”

Khadgar thanked him and exited the confessional, leaving Lothar to gather himself. After a few minutes to make sure there was no physical evidence of the arousal Khadgar had provoked in him, Father Lothar left the confessional as well. He saw Khadgar among the pews with his eyes closed and head bowed, soft lips moving as he finished his Act of Contrition. Once finished he stood, looking over at Lothar with a smile that was full of sin and promise. He maintained eye-contact for just a second longer than was appropriate, before biting his lip-he was always doing that, and it stirred something dark in Lothar-and turning to go. Father Lothar crossed himself three times as he watched Khadgar leave, eyes shamefully trained on the sway to his ass as he walked.

‘That boy will be my ticket to hell.’


	4. I (Do)n't Love You

Anduin Lothar was a man that didn't pull punches. He said things exactly how they were, without regard for the way others would react. He didn't believe in lies. They were toxic. They destroyed a person, rotting them from the inside out. And while the truth sometimes hurt, it wasn't as horrible as lying or being lied to.

Khadgar appreciated that about him. He was also a man that did not lies. There was just no reason to say anything other than the truth, in his opinion. He admired Lothar for his ability to always be painfully blunt, no matter the situation. In all their time together, he'd only known the man to lie five times.

The first was when he said Medihv was likely only trying to protect him. It wasn't a lie, really, since neither of them knew for sure why the Guardian had set his research on fire. They were both just keeping up a charade, not voicing their suspicions that would be devastating if proven true.

The second time he knew for sure was a lie. Lothar had said he had been on a mission in the country side. As he spoke, a strange tingling, burning sensation lit up over Khadgar's ribs. When Lothar left and he pulled up his tunic to take a look, it was Lothar's words spelled out in neat script. At the time, he didn't understand the significance.

The third time, Khadgar figured out what the words meant. He'd been trying to find a certain book he'd misplaced, a sketchbook, and he'd asked Lothar if he'd seen it. The man said he had no idea where it was, and again Khadgar felt the strange tingling, this time around his ankle. He knew without looking what it would be. He looked anyway. A few hours later, the book turned up placed under his pillow, and he knew he hadn't left it there.

The fourth time was innocuous enough. Lothar had been teasing him about how he looked, sequestered away in the library surrounded by a fortress of books, like he was preparing for a siege. Khadgar had rolled his eyes and asked if Lothar meant it. Lothar nodded and said of course he did. This time the tingles were over his hip bone. It made khadgar smile, like he had a piece of Lothar always with him.

Then, there's was the fifth time. The last time.

Khadhar had thought things were going well. It had been years that he'd known Lothar, they'd been through much. Had grown closer. He thought it was time to move a mother step forward in their relationship.

Lothar disagreed.

It was painful, the tingles that ran down his forearm. It was painful to see the taunting words whenever he took off his clothes or pushed up his sleeve. But even when he couldn't see them, he knew they were their. He could feel them, like a weight on his soul.

I don't love you.

It hurt worse than any other lie Lothar could have told him. If he had meant it, Khadgar would have been heartsick for a little while, possibly even devastated. But he would have gotten over it and moved on. Things would have continued on with Lothar like normal because Khadgar didn't dwell. There was no point in focusing on things that hurt, things that he couldn't have, when instead he could focus on what he already had. A great friend in a great warrior and great man.

But this, this was heartbreaking. Because he loved Lothar, and Lothar knew it. But he lied and said he didn't, without giving any reason. There wasn't a reason. If they loved each other, then there was no reason to lie.

Lothar loved him, but not enough to tell him.

It wasn't just that he lied that hurt. It was that he never got a chance to take it back. He left Khadgar to scream to the heavens and cry himself sick over his lifeless body, never once saying that he really did love his Mage. And he did, Khadgar knew he did. It was written right there on his body. It should be some kind of comfort, however cold, that the man he was in love with loved him back.

But Lothar just didn't love him enough.


	5. Bottom of the Bottle Hits

Steel to my trembling lips

How did the night ever get like this?

One shot and the whiskey goes down, down, down

Bottom of the bottle hits

waking up my mind as I throw a fit

The breakin' is takin' me down, down, down

 

Khadgar walked into the Lion’s Pride Inn, a glance around confirming what he’d heard from inside. Or rather, what he hadn’t heard. No telltale sounds of music and laughter to signify patrons of the Inn. It was entirely empty. Though, that wasn’t surprising in the least to him, given who the only person at the bar was, and why he was here. With a sad sigh, Khadgar walked across the inn, putting his hand over the top of the bottle as Lothar lifted it to his lips for another deep drag of the potent alcohol. He didn’t say anything for a long time, letting Khadgar take it from his hands to knock back some himself, then set it out of arms reach of the both of them.

Khadgar didn’t say anything either, willing to let Lothar speak when he was ready. He didn’t say anything when Lothar wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him close. He didn’t say anything when Lothar pressed his face into his side. And if he felt a damp spot in his tunic, he didn’t say anything about that either. He simply wrapped his arms around Lothar and carded his fingers through his hair as he held him close, offering what comfort he could.

Lothar’s shoulders shook and his breath occasionally hitched, audible only because of the silence of the inn, as he cried silently against Khadgar, finally letting himself fall apart in front of the one person he knew he could. With Khadgar, he didn’t have to worry about appearances, or decorum, or all that other bullshit that meant he had to present himself as nothing more than a statue, hard and emotionless.

He couldn’t be that person right now, not after all he’d lost in such a short time. First his son, which had been just as devastating as when he’d lost his wife. Then Medihv and Llane. His best friends, his brothers, if not in blood then in spirit. They had been through everything together. They had thought themselves invincible in their youth, and even if they grew to now that was false, nothing could have prepared Lothar for the pain of their loss. He was ashamed to admit to himself that losing them was worse than losing his wife, worse than losing his son.

So he let himself finally break down. Let himself release all the pain and anger and tears that he had been holding back, and bottling up, and drinking away because his kingdom needed him to be strong. His people needed a leader, one who they could believe was infallible, even if they knew it wasn’t true. A part of Lothar needed to believe it as well. Needed to believe that if he presented himself as the strong, fierce leader his people needed, then eventually everything else would fade away, nothing more than a mere memory. All of the pain, the loss. Just gone, like it was never there.

If he was a better man, then he wouldn’t be making this poor kid, a child, really, deal with him while he was like this. Khadgar was just a boy, he had no place in this war. He shouldn’t have to feel the pain of loss, watch as friends died right before his eyes. But it was too late to change, now. He had felt the pain of betrayal, the agony of loss. The cold dread of taking a life, watching the light leave a friend’s eye. Medihv had become like a father to Khadgar as he’d taken the boy under his wing. And Khadgar was the closest thing Medihv would ever have to a son, forbidden to have mortal ties such as a family.

It was too late to spare Khadgar the horrors of war, and Lothar could see the shadows haunting his eyes when he thought no one was looking. Eyes that had once been so bright, so full of life. And they still were, most of the time. He was still his old self, reading too much and asking too many questions and getting himself into too much trouble, all while smiling that smile of his. But sometimes, when he saw Lady Taria, or came back from Karazhan, or accompanied Lothar in the war room, his smile would be just a touch less bright, just a little too forced.

Khadgar had lost much too, and if Lothar were a better man, he wouldn’t be crying on the boy like a babe. But he needed this. He needed to be selfish tonight; he would be a better man in the morning. But for now, he was just Anduin Lothar. Not the knight, not the Commander, not the Lion of Azeroth, not the Lord Regent of Stormwind. Just Anduin Lothar, the soldier that had seen too much, lost too much.

Khadgar bent down over him, resting his cheek against Lothar’s hair, and very quietly said, “You’ve been strong for too long, Lothar.”

Lothar pulled away to look up at Khadgar, his eyes red and wet, beard glistening with his tears, and getting more damp as they continued leaking out of his eyes. And Khadgar just gave him that smile of his, drying Lothar’s tears with his sleeve even as they continued soaking his cheeks. Ignoring his better judgement, he stood and pressed Khadgar into the bar, pulling him into a kiss that was easily reciprocated.

“Tell me what you need, Lothar,” he whispered against his lips when they pulled away to breathe. And he could only think of one thing as he looked into Khadgar’s warm, kind eyes, empty of shadows or regrets and full of promise. There was only one thing he knew he truly needed, and he pressed his lips to Khadgar’s again, cupping his soft cheek in his large palm. Khadgar slid his hands down Lothar’s chest, and went to undo the laces of his pants, before Lothar caught his wrists. He lifted Khadgar’s hands and pulled away just enough to kiss both of his palms. Then, looking into Khadgar’s eyes, he said simply,

“I need to know that I won’t lose you, too.”


	6. Home is Where the Hearth Is

Khadgar had never had a home, not really. Not since he had just turned six years old and was sent to the Kirin Tor. He couldn't even remember his family; one of the older mage's had locked away his memories of them, to make it less painful. He could unlock them when he was ready, but he never did. There was no point.

The Kirin Tor was hardly a home. He was well taken care of, of course, but not cared for. He had no family, no love. For years, he told himself he was alright with that. It didn't matter, because he was being trained to become a powerful Mage, the Guardian, for lights sake. And when he became the guardian, he would have no earthly attachments. This way was better, because he wouldn't mourn the loss of something he never had.

Then he left. He wandered, and traveled, met with different mage's all over the Eastern Kingdoms to receive what wisdom they would bestow upon him.

Then the fel came to Azeroth, and he couldn't let that go unchallenged. He went to Stormwind and entered the royal barracks, knowing he was probably breaking a fair amount of laws. He had gotten caught, of course, but he wasn't trying to hide.

Then, he had met Sir Anduin Lothar, Lord Commander of the Stormwind army. He had disliked him immediately as he was thrown in the table and silenced like some common criminal.

But the Commander grew on him, and he found himself in the company of Royalty, something he never had imagined would happen to him of all people.

It was almost like he had a family for the first time he could remember. Lothar and Garona, Medihv, even the King and Queen. He was quite possibly the most fortunate person in Azeroth.

He should have known that good things never last.

Garona betrayed them-he told himself that there had to be a reason, there had to-Medihv betrayed them, Llane was lost. He was almost lost, as well. Almost surrendered to the obscene power of the burning legion. He could feel the fel spreading through him, burning out every last piece of the light within him. He had thought, 'surely, this the end for me. I can't fight this, I can't fight the strongest demon to ever live. I'm not strong enough.' Then he saw Lothar, heard him through the protective barrier: 'You are stronger than he is.'

He could see in his eyes that Lothar needed him to be strong. He'd lost his son, was betrayed by his best friend, knew his King was riding off into what would likely be his last battle. He couldn't lose Khadgar too.

So Khadgar had fought against it, had remembered the words Alodi had told him, and against all odds, he had beaten the fel. In a time of so much loss, it was good to finally have a win.

After the battle was over, and the war was done, the fighting finished for a little while whole both sides licked their wounds, things began to change. People reacted to loss differently. Some faded away, withdrawn into themselves to hide from the pain. Some became angry, striking out any anything and everything. Some sought comfort in others. And when Lothar came to him one night, Khadgar willingly gave himself up to help ease his pain.

Khadgar had thought Lothar would have regrets come morning, but it didn't happen. He wasn't thrown out of Lothar's bed immediately, and in fact was brought back to it almost every night.

And since times of war and desperation cause people to make strange decisions, Lothar asked Khadgar to marry him.

It wasn't some grand affair, with dozens of witnesses and a glimmering ring made of rare metals or something equally extravagant and unnecessary. They were laying in bed, catching their breath after a particularly passionate evening, when Lothar asked. Khadgar had thought he was kidding at first, but when it became evident he wasn't, Khadgar happily agreed.

They didn't have a traditional ceremony with vows and a priest, for various reasons. One of them was that for the most part, their marriage needed to be kept secret. So, they did something a little less conspicuous, but much more meaningful. With some research, Khadgar managed to figure out the spell to create a hearthstone, then altered it a little.

*** 

"Are you ready?" he asked, hand over Lothar's heart, and he nodded. With a quick incantation, a glowing blue rune was inscribed on Lothar's chest to match the one over his own heart.

"Fuck," Lothar hissed, grabbing at Khadgar's wrist but not pulling away until the spell was finished. Khadgar smiled up at him, tracing the swirling rune with his fingertips.

"Want to test it out?"

"Yeah. Works the same as a hearthstone, right?"

"Mhmm." 

Lothar gave him a kiss before leaving the room. A few moments later, he was appearing in front of Khadgar with a flash of blue. Smiling, he pushed Khadgar onto the bed with another kiss.

"I'd say it works."

***

Khadgar absentmindedly traced his fingertips over the rune on his chest, hidden beneath his clothes, as he looked through his book of battle spells that he still needed to master. It used to be calming to him, knowing it was there; like when someone would play with their wedding ring. Now, it was just a constant reminder of what he'd lost.

"I miss you, Anduin," he said under his breath, a fresh grief washing over him. It had only been a few weeks since he'd lost his lover, and the pain of that loss hadn't faded at all. The mere thought of his husband was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

Before Khadgar realized what was happening, his rune was teleporting him out of his room in the Keep. Not knowing where he was being taken, where could the rune possibly take him now, he was unable to hold back a choked sob when he fell before Anduin's grave.

Even in death, the runes still worked.

"Khadgar. Don't cry, beautiful," came a voice behind him, before moving to kneel in front of him.

"You're not real," Khadgar said, almost desperately, as he looked up at the sadly smiling face of Anduin Lothar.

"Not entirely, but it really is me. I promise."

Khadgar reached out to touch him, but his hand passed right through Lothar's spirit. "I miss you," he said brokenly, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Lothar laid his hand against Khadgar's chest, over his heart. "I'm always with you, Khadgar."


	7. Famous Last Words

Khadgar looked down at the words scrawled down his arm in neat script. They taunted him.

‘For Azeroth’

Those were the last words his soulmate would ever say to him. But that was something every single damn soldier in the Alliance would say just before heading off to battle.

When Khadgar had been sent to the Kirin’tor, he gave up any hope of ever finding his soulmate. That just wasn’t something mages out time to, searching for love. Their life was to be dedicated to magic. To gathering knowledge and wisdom. And he had been alright with that. Magic was a vast subject, and there was so much to learn; he would never have time for a soulmate.

Then, he left. No longer a part of the Kirin’tor, he didn’t have to follow their rules. He wandered for a while, traveling from place to play to see what there was to see. Though he never found love; admittedly, he never looked. He didn’t want to spend his life with someone, only to find out at the end of it that they weren’t the one he was destined to be with.

Then, a presence had drawn him to Stormwind city, the jewel of the Alliance. And when he had been confronted by none other than Anduin Lothar, famed Lion of Azeroth, he hadn’t known what to think. Surely fate was kind enough to let this man be the one for him.

But as he’d gotten to know Lothar better, spent more time around him, he found that it just wasn’t meant to be. Lothar’s heart belonged to another, the mother of his child. But that was alright, he knew it was too good to be true. Then he saw as something grew between Lothar and Garona, the half-orc female they had brought into their group. He tried not to resent her for that, for having the one thing he truly wanted. And he had been happy for them, even if sometimes he couldn’t help but feel envious.

Then, she betrayed them all, and it was devastating for all who called her friend. But for Lothar, who had just lost his son only days prior, then his two best friends, his king, his female, it was just too much. Khadgar hoped Garona had a reason, tried to convince Lothar of that as well, to no avail.

So instead, he did what he could, caring for Lothar after he drunk himself to unconsciousness, gradually picking up the pieces and trying to arrange them into the proud warrior he once knew. Lothar was never really the same, but he recovered, buried the pain, continued on, and Khadgar admired him for it. And how could he not? Lothar lost everything, then picked himself up and carried on, only to lose even more, in the name of his people and his world.

Then, the battle at Blackrock happened. Khadgar couldn’t save Lothar, couldn’t get to him fast enough. He got there too late, held Lothar against him as the warrior breathed his last.

“For… Az-Azeroth,” he choked out, blood staining his teeth and lips.

Khadgar watched as the light faded from his steely blue eyes, tears streaming from his own as he clutched Lothar, his heart shattering in his chest. And he could pretend that it was Lothar this whole time, even though it was impossible to ever know for sure.


	8. Universal Rule

Khadgar ran for his life, not daring to look over his shoulder at the great beast that was chasing him. He was so close-he just needed to go a little further, just through the door, then he would be safe. With a sound of determination, he launched himself through the door and onto the bed, quickly scrambling to get beneath the covers. He held his breath, biting his bottom lip as he hid beneath them. Soon, footsteps echoed in the bedroom, and the bed shifted as a weight settled on it. Then, the weight settled across Khadgar, pinning him to the soft mattress.

"And what have we here?" Lothar asked, smirk evident in his voice. "My precious little prey, all bundled up for me, unable to escape."

"No, you can't get me if I'm under the covers; everybody knows that, it's a universal rule," Khadgar said from beneath the blankets, voice muffled only a little.

"Well, since I suppose you won't be coming out," the blankets moved as Khadgar shook his head, "Then I guess I'll just have to join you under there. There's no rule against that, is there?" He kicked off his shoes and went to the foot of the bed, crawling under the blankets until he rested on top of Khadgar, between his parted legs.

"I think I like this much more. What do you think?"

"I think it's cheating, you evil man," Khadgar said, before releasing his grip on the blankets to instead wrap his arms around Lothar's neck and brink him down for a slow kiss. Lothar reciprocated happily, stroking Khadgar's cheek before moving his hand down to slide under his shirt, hand gradually pushing up along his chest.

"I love you," Khadgar murmured against Lothar's lips, smiling against him as me moved his hands lower to push under Lothar's shirt, running his palms over the others broad back.

Lothar's own lips quirked up into a smile, and he pulled back just enough to look down at Khadgar. "I love you too, Bookworm." The smile he got was radiant, if slightly miffed at the endearment, lighting up Khadgar's features. Lothar just had to lean down and capture those soft, plush lips in a kiss again. But before things could get any more heated, they were interrupted.

"Dad-! Uh... Hey Khadgar..."

Lothar jerked away to look over at his son, who looked somewhere between smug and slightly embarrassed, immediately pulling his hand out from under Khadgar's shirt. The young man below him couldn't help but laugh, even as he covered his face to hide the blush blooming across his cheeks.

"Hey Callan, nice to see you."

"Yeah, I'm sure it would be nice to see you too, but I don't really want to see what's happening under there."

If Khadgar was laughing before, he was positively cackling now as he realized the incriminating picture he and Lothar made; to anyone else, it would look as if thy were right in the middle of something much more intimate than what they had been actually up to.

"Don't worry, nothing too scarring." He tossed back the blankets-it was becoming hot under there anyway-to reveal that he and Lothar were still clad in their t-shirts and jeans.

"Did you need something?" Lothar asked after clearing his throat and sitting up from his compromising position between Khadgar's legs.

"Nothing that can't wait. Have fun you two," Callan said with a laugh, closing the door as he left.Khadgar was still snickering softly as he sat up as well, wrapping his arms around Lothar's waist.

"What am I going to do with that boy," he groaned, allowing himself to be pulled back down. "And what am I going to do with you?"

"Mmm, I have some ideas."

"As do I. And since you are no longer under the protection of the blankets..." Lothar grinned, pinning Khadgar to the bed again easily.

"I suppose that puts me at your mercy," he said, returning the grin.

"Indeed it does, bookworm."


	9. No Worse Regret

No regret stings worse than a missed opportunity. And there is no worse regret than giving up the opportunity for love.

Khadgar never did things half-way. He threw himself almost obsessively into his studies, then he threw himself away from the Kirin Tor when he could no longer listen to their age-old beliefs and restrictions. He felt the Fel invading Azeroth, and threw himself head-first into battle with arguably the most powerful demon-Titan, the leader of the Burning Legion before he even knew what the Burning Legion was, knowing that either he or his mentor-his friend-wouldn't survive the fight. Possibly both.

But when it came to matters of the heart, treacherous thing that it was, he cast it in ice and buried it deep, silenced the voice that begged and pleaded for himself to throw himself into this battle just as fervently as he'd thrown himself into the others.

But he couldn't.

When Khadgar allowed himself to think about it-think about Him-it was the eyes he remembered first. They always seemed so cold, so frigid. Hard like tempered steel. But when one looked just a little deeper, they could see into the soul inside. They could see the man hidden behind the battle-sharp wit and hardened exterior. They could see the warmth that hid in the depths of those icy eyes.

Oh, the warmth. Calm, like the low crackling of embers. Or burning hotter than the fires of hell, fanned by passion as he tore his way through and indomitable enemy, forged by the fires of battle and tempered by determination. Some days, those stormy eyes would give way to a tropical beach sky, a piece of calm in the hurricane that clouded them so often, for so long.

Khadgar could see into those eyes, cold as the highest peaks or hot as the fires of Ironforge, and into the soul that remained locked away in this time of death. He could see the kind, warm soul-like a mug of warm tea by the fire in the dead of winter, wrapped in blankets as a blizzard raged outside-and see the kind man inside. So kind, longing for peace and willing to fight the forces of hell if only to guarantee it for His world.

The ice had cracked around his heart when he'd looked into those burning-cold eyes and seen the man inside. The noble, good man. And he wanted, oh how he wanted, to throw himself into this battle as recklessly as he had the others.

Khadgar had had so many chances. Sitting by the fire, the first bit of calm they'd had in so long, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. It would have been so easy to lean just a little bit closer. Riding alone with Him on a scouting mission, seeing the way His tensions bled almost entirely away as His movements flowed with that of the horse, entirely in His element as they rode through the countryside. They had grown closer over the months, and casual touches had almost become commonplace, expected. Khadhar had realized just how touch starved he was when be grave to crave the touches as soon as they began, like a hopeless addict starving for his next fix.

The months came and went, the battles seemingly never-ending, and more hopeless each time. And they were still recovering from loss and betrayal, a blow dealt to all of the Alliance. But things had been looking up again, the pain of loss turned instead to remembrance of fond memories. And for the first time in so, so long it felt as if things would be alright again.

It would have been so easy, then. He was no longer in mourning, His stormy eyes lightened for this first time in what felt like forever. But still, he couldn't do it. Khadgar had found a wonderful thing, a precious, rare thing, and he couldn't ruin it now. He couldn't ruin it by being greedy, asking for more than the kindness and affectionate touches he already received. So he contended himself with leaning into the hand against his cheek a little more, or hugged back just a little tighter, just a little longer, when strong arms wrapped around his waist.

Khadgar contented himself with that, and he was really, truly happy. It was more than he'd ever thought he would have not even three years prior. He had found a friend. No, something much deeper than a friend. He had not the words to describe, not in his own tongue. He had found his 'sir'talah'. Elvish, such an ancient dialect that few of those alive even spoke it. Said to have been the original dialect of the elves after they were created, spoken first by the ancient gods themselves.

His sir'talah, the one he had given his heart, his soul, to. The one who's vary essence was entwined with his own. It was not the same as saying simply 'love'. No, it was so much more complex, so much deeper than that. And Khadhar so deeply wished he had the words, the courage, to express his feelings to him. But he didn't. He couldn't. So he never did.

And then that fateful day came; he was powerless. So infuriatingly powerless, unable to do anything but watch as the man he would give anything for was taken from him as if He were nothing more than an annoying gnat. The banshees themselves had been silenced by Khadgar's anguished cries as he'd watched the hammer come down, knowing it was too late even as he formed a spell.

Too slow, always too slow when it mattered most. Too slow to prevent the fel. Too slow to stop the orcs. too slow to save Callan, or Medihv, or the King. And now, now he had been to slow to save Him. His friend, his love, his sir'talah. He felt something torn from him as the life left the crushed corpse. He could have sworn he saw one of the rumkred valkyr pull the soul from His body and carry it to the heavens, far, far away from his own, and he had torn apart the battle field. The wrath of the angered spirits, the scorned and the lost, flowed through him as he swept through the Orc forces like a swathe, death following in his wake.

And when it was done, the horizon as bloodied as Blackrock, he kneeled in the blood-drenched ground completely numb, even as he became just as soaked with blood as the ground beneath him. He was simply empty, gone. Nothing of the boy he once was remaining.

He hadn't been a boy in so long, forced to grow into a man long before he was ready. Then aged against his will as he fought Medihv, turned withered and ancient in an instant, until he had found a way to temporary alter the curse. He was... He was...

Lost.

He was lost. So lost, and empty, and he couldn't even cry, couldn't even feel tears to hold back. Just nothing. An empty, yawning chasm. A void.

Both sides of the battle gradually left, gathering their survivors, their injured, their dead. And eventually, Khadgar was alone, left in his place amidst the congealing blood, the scent of iron think in the air, so thick it was almost too hard to breathe.

Good. He didn't want to breathe. He didn't want to draw another breath, knowing it would be one more breath that He wasn't with him.

Seeing him alone amidst the carnage, a young soldier came to him. To see if he was alive, and he was, as much as he wished he wasn't. The youth was careful, proper with the 'please sir, let me take you to a healer'. And when bad Khadgar become a 'sir'? He was surely no older than this youthful boy before him. But he knew, even as young as his body appeared, with the affects of his curse removed, that his soul was as ancient as the gods themselves. He didn't get up, didn't go with the soldier, simply outstretched a hand and slowly drew runes in the gelatinous blood until blue encircled him, and he blinked out of existence. Back to Karazhan.

He hadn't been here in so long. Not since Medihv. He couldn't stand to be there, in the place where he had murdered his friend and mentor. But he didn't know where else to go. Back to the battlefield to help, surely, but- he couldn't. He should probably be in Stormwind, delivering the news of what had happened to Lady Taria; better him than some impersonal letter or report. He couldn't do that, either. He wouldn't be able to bear it. So he returned to Karazhan, and he did the only thing he knew he could handle.

He started cleaning. Just like old times.

Medihv's body had been taken care of, but the golem was still there, along with the remnants of the battle. And honestly, Khadhar should have known that he couldn't bear this either. But he had forgotten, or perhaps hadn't known, hadn't noticed amidst the battle for the fate of Azeroth.

It was silly, really. Completely, utterly stupid, but it was the straw that broke the camels back, and it's what finally made him break down into agonized screams and body-wracking sobs that eventually turned into nothing more than heaving breaths.

The boots. The fucking boots that had become embedded in the golem.

All the screaming in all of Azeroth wouldn't bring Him back, but he tried. He screamed until he was raw and he tasted copper in his mouth.

He didn't understand, couldn't understand, why he hadn't just said one damn thing. Now it was too late, and he couldn't think of anything but how he wished, just once, he had said how he had felt, damn the consequences. But he wouldn't, he couldn't, so he didn't.

He spent so long in Karazhan, so long it felt like a lifetime, like forever, and yet only a moment at the same time. When he finally returned to Stormwind, he learned it was only a few hours. He carried on the way he knew He would have, stepped up and did his best to take care of things. He did what he could for Taria and Varian, and later Anduin, precious boy that he was. He was not unlike his namesake, and that threatened to reopen the old wounds he had finally managed to heal after so long.

Anduin was with him in his final moments. The boy he had helped raise, had seen grown into a man. They had accomplished much together, finally banishing the Burning Legion from their world. He was grateful to have Anduin with him, even if it wasn't his Anduin.

The young prince turned widened King stayed with him, the faint glow of the Light clinging to him, until the light faded completely from Khadgar's vision. All but one single figure.

He smiled a serene smile and he let go of the mortal plane, his soul, his essence, leaving his body to finally join his sir'talah, their essences twining together once again.


End file.
